Bike locks ... meant for security, but in this case, a bloody weapon. Photograph: Alicia Canter

Bike theft, according to the Home Office, is up 22% in the last year. But there are no crime figures, nor indeed any data available to cycling organisation CTC, detailing the full circumstances in which it takes place. Having your bike stolen is a common enough experience, and it can send you through a series of emotions: confusion, disbelief, self-blame, pumped-up rage, or after a few times, utter deflation. But there's another feeling too. Trying not to sound too much like Flann O'Brien's The Third Policeman here, I've sometimes felt like a physical part of me has also been stolen, a ghostly, outer framework to my own body. On one hot summer evening last August, almost year ago to the day, this analogy took on a new dimension.

Riding home with my partner on a quiet designated cycling route near Dalston in east London, we turned a corner. In that instant, I knew something bad was about to happen. From either side of the street, a hooded adult gang began, with an strange, silent menace, to close in on us. Though travelling at nearly 20mph, and with enough momentum, you'd think, to fly past any pedestrian, my bike suddenly skidded out of control, the back wheel bludgeoned by some heavy object. It was a professional, scouted operation, and I, brought down like an antelope, with the pack descending, was suddenly trapped on the ground, my legs tangled up in the frame of the bike.

Within a second, and without even a word, four of the gang were above me, raining down kicks and punches to my head and body. The experience was of course terrifying, but also slightly surreal in its immediacy, and more dreamlike by the fact I couldn't even see my assailants' faces. I was too busy trying to defend myself from blows while trapped under the bike. I could hear my partner screaming at them to stop, but couldn't free myself. Miraculously she was unhurt, her bike already grabbed, but restrained by one of them from going anywhere near me. It got worse. One attacker became, shall we say, rather overzealous with the robbery, and began hitting me directly in the face with what I later realised was my own D-lock, as heavy and as damaging as a hammer. Insult added to injury indeed.

As the storm of blows reached a climax, and a cacophony of shouting including my colourful suggestion "why can't you just fucking steal bikes when they're locked up?", I eventually freed my legs, clothes tearing from the frame. Amazingly, the gang immediately cleared off with bikes and panniers. Dazed and drenched with blood, I limped away from the scene, my girlfriend managing to get an ambulance. Before then, I remember us being completely ignored by a lady walking a dog, as if we were, in fact ghosts.

After hours in hospital, a plastic surgeon had to operate on my face, I had multiple stitches, and over the next three months underwent nine sessions at the dentist to repair various broken teeth. To cover scars, I grew a beard for a while. But hey, I'm now back to normal, though there is one street I will always avoid.

In fact, I was lucky. It could have been much worse for both of us, especially if I'd actually got off the floor. The possible consequences of it sharpen like knives in my imagination. Despite police investigations, the lack of CCTV and witnesses, and our assailants' covered faces, meant the perpetrators were never caught.

Though covered in bandages, I actually got back on a bike in two weeks. It made me feel normal again. Having ridden almost every day since aged four, mainly in big cities from Manchester to London, cycling has always been a source of joy to me, and I was never going to let thieves take that away. After all, I didn't lose a limb or an eye, I just lost a bike, though I do miss the whispering whir of that grass-green Kona hybrid.

Overall, I've found cycling to be the best, and one of the safest ways to travel in terms of being mugged, and despite what happened, will always give it a positive spin. Was last year's experience unusual? I hope so, but either way, feel free to share yours.